


Don't Rush

by thekingofcarrotflowers



Series: Closer [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Blossoming Friendship, Bullying, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Krem to the rescue, Krem's POV, M/M, Pining, Protectiveness, Slow Burn, The Inquisition Soldiers Are Being Jerks To Dorian FYI
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 13:16:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4350209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekingofcarrotflowers/pseuds/thekingofcarrotflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Krem starts to realize he may be pining for Dorian -- just a little bit, of course. Then, when Dorian faces some less-than-welcoming soldiers, Krem steps in.</p><p>Also, I'm not good at summaries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'd Love to Find My Other

**Author's Note:**

> In Chapter Two, some Inquisition soldiers are being jerks. Don't worry, Krem comes to the rescue.

The tavern was bustling with energy tonight, the Inquisitor and their team having arrived home the day before, more red lyrium destroyed and more Red Templars wiped out of existence. None of their party returned with anything more than scrapes and bruises, and after a day of resting, they all made an appearance in the tavern for a game of Wicked Grace with the soldiers. Varric was hosting the game, as always, sitting at the head of the table and distracting the other players with riveting tales that put some of the Chargers’ stories to shame.

  
Dorian was to the dwarf’s left, dressed in fine teal robes he only wore around Skyhold, gold rings in his ear and nose catching the tavern light, smile sly as he looked down at his hand and chuckled at Varric. Krem suspected the man had a card up his sleeve, knowing he cheated at everything from Wicked Grace to chess. It was a relief to see Dorian happy and at ease again, the messy business of his past having continued to cast a cloud over the man even after he finally made an appearance in the tavern again. Krem had wanted to ask more those times, find a way to ease some of the man’s worries. Some nights, Dorian didn’t seem to even have the energy to snap at those around him, and Krem had decided they weren’t at a point in their uncertain friendship where he could ask questions. Instead, he tried to distract Dorian with stories of the Chargers’ adventures, or remembering some of the better things about home — the food, the holidays, the salt air. Still, it made Krem’s chest feel heavy to see Dorian, who was usually so full of heat and passion (even if it was often funneled into passionately _complaining_ about things), so listless and passive.

  
When a grin spread across Dorian’s face at something Sera said close to his ear, Krem couldn’t help that a smile tugged at his own lips, and glanced away hurriedly. He tried to busy himself with the Chargers’ conversations around him, tried to listen to Bull tell the story about giant baiting again for the handsome redheaded soldier who had made his way to the vacant seat at Bull’s side, but something about Dorian kept drawing his eye. He tried to dismiss it to the way Dorian glittered and gleamed tonight, the many rings on his fingers dancing like the fire he cast in the training yard, as he gathered up his winnings from the hand. There was no denying that Dorian was beautiful, his skin rich and smooth, his eyes bright and lively, his lips dark and plump. He shook his head, taking a long drink of his wine, and wondered when he had moved past viewing Dorian as some primped up, pompous Magister’s heir to seeing Dorian as a friend, to noticing when his barking laughter was absent from the tavern.

  
“Where you at tonight, Krempuff?” Bull asked, but the smile on his face and the glint in his eye were knowing. The redhead had gone towards the bar, presumably to get refills of their drinks. The rest of the Chargers were too busy with drinking and flirting and debating over song lyrics to pay them much attention.

  
Krem shrugged slightly, “Jus’ tired of hearing you yammer about giants in an effort to get into someone’s pants again, is all.”

  
Bull faked being hurt, hand clutching at his chest, “ _Yowch_! Yer just jealous.”

  
“Of you? Don’t think so.”

  
Krem was purposefully avoiding looking in Dorian’s direction, instead focusing on some fixed point on the wall as he idly drank his wine, though he did notice when Dorian’s laughter cut through the cacophony of the tavern. As prissy and refined Dorian tried to be, his laughter was loud and rough and often occupied by an anything-but-regal snort. It flooded something warm and tingling through his veins, and he knew Bull would somehow sense the momentary flutter in Krem’s stomach. Then, Bull’s head turned, gazing across the room to the group playing Wicked Grace. He grinned, nodding toward Dorian.

  
“Bit of a looker, huh?”

  
“Yeah, Tevinter knows how to breed ‘em.”

  
Bull chuckled, “You’ve been trying not to look at him all night.”

  
Krem scowled slightly, “Hard not to notice ‘im when he’s all decked out in —” He cut himself off, realizing he was only further giving himself away if he described just how perfectly Dorian had styled his hair, or that he was wearing a pair of robes he only wore if he wasn’t going to get covered in mud and shit and blood. Bull laughed again.

  
“Nothing wrong with having a pretty distraction,” Bull gave him a one-eyed wink just before the soldier returned with fresh ales, Bull’s attention turning back towards his potential bedmate.

  
Krem found himself staring openly at Dorian now, eyes gone slightly wide as he mulled what Bull said over in his head. When had he started to _like_ Dorian, started to notice what _clothes_ Dorian wore, started to notice when Dorian put a little extra something into his appearance?

  
After Dorian folded with a huff, he glanced up in Krem’s direction. Their eyes met, something bright flaring in Dorian’s golden eyes, and a smile crept across his features. Dorian was grinning warmly at him, and Krem smiled back, an unfamiliar heat creeping into his cheeks. It wasn’t often Krem felt himself blushing, growingly slightly immune from the constant barrage of potential embarrassment from Bull’s crude comments and bad jokes and the Charger’s lack of privacy or tact. This was a different sort of feeling, one that lit Krem up from the inside and made him feel warmer than the alcohol in his belly had.

  
The exchange only lasted a brief moment before Sera was clattering down into the seat next to Dorian, sloshing overly full ales into Dorian’s lap, the man yelping and scolding Sera for ruining his robes. Krem kept smiling, shaking his head gently, and held on tight to the warmth in his gut. 


	2. I'm Here For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Krem to the rescue! Sorta.

The weather had been wretched the last week, a series of storms sweeping across Skyhold and keeping just about everyone inside. While Krem spent most of his time in the tavern anyway, without morning training with the Chargers or the occasional walk around the battlements, he was beginning to feel stir-crazy. After taking a strong shot of whiskey he kept stowed under his bed to warm his bones, he wrapped a thick coat around himself before heading outside.

  
Despite spending the last few years mostly in the south, Krem couldn’t deny that he missed the Tevinter warmth. It was never like this up north, the sweltering heat usually more of a concern. Home meant  warm rain, which Krem missed. The rain here was always bitterly cold and heavy, soaking to the core. The near-constant storming meant pools of frigid water were scattered across the fortress, the mud thick and sticky. Krem sloshed through it, making his way towards the gardens. He’d taken to spending time there, working on his knitting in one of the pavilions, sometimes getting a chance to catch Dorian playing chess or reading amongst the fragrant flowers. While he only occasionally spoke with the mage, they often only smiled at each other across the gardens, exchanged nods and waves, and that was good enough for Krem for now. This wasn’t anything, a simple infatuation with the pretty Altus fop, a situation that would never work out, but it didn’t hurt to indulge himself a little.

  
Today, the garden was fairly empty, the Chantry sisters inside, Krem suspecting wearing their long robes in this weather was impossible. Curiosity washed over Krem when he spotted a few soldiers gathered around one of the benches, and Krem wondered what they could be so interested in. A few more steps gave him a clearer line of sight, spotting Dorian, wearing a heated scowl, sitting in the middle of the ring of soldiers. Whatever was happening, it didn’t look good.

  
As Krem hurried forward, headed towards the stairs down into the courtyard, one of Dorian’s books splashed into a puddle at their feet. Dorian pursed his lips in a thin line and said something that Krem couldn’t make out from here, but he could easily guess it was rude and meant to cut the men down to size. One of the men grabbed Dorian by his high collar, yanking him forward slightly, and Dorian set his expression into one of fierce defiance.

  
“Hey!” Krem shouted, clattering down the stairs, fury making his stomach a tight mess of knots. Despite the growing feeling of panic rising in his chest, he knew this was something he should play more detached. The soldiers had given him some trouble at first, too, but training and eating and drinking alongside them had made them indifferent to that fact he was from Tevinter. He collected himself, strolling across the garden instead of dashing to Dorian’s side like he wanted to, “What’s going on here, fellas?”

  
“Coming to defend your countryman?” One of the men said it like an accusation, like Krem was doing something filthy and wrong. Another still had a firm hold on Dorian’s collar, Dorian’s expression turning into one of shock at Krem’s intervention.

  
“Unless you have a problem with literature, don’t think it looks like Dorian’s done anything wrong,” Krem pointed out, coming to a stop close to the group, arms crossed.  
A boot kicked the spilled book, skittering it across the mud. Dorian winced at that, looking heartbroken as muck splattered the pages.

  
“Reading about _blood magic_ and other Magister shite.”

  
Krem shrugged slightly, knowing Dorian spent a lot of his time researching ways to end the Venatori and history that would help defeat Corypheus. He knew that Dorian spent more nights than he could count on his fingers in the library, forgetting about food and drink in order to get some work done. The mage would show up with black rings around his eyes after being absent for a week, eat enough food to give the Bull the run for his money, and casually mention he hadn’t been sleeping much. Even if Dorian was somewhat stuck in his mindset at times, having been brainwashed by the Imperium for years, he was making an effort to improve himself and make amends for his countrymen. He also knew that as much as Dorian complained about all the horrible places the Inquisitor dragged him, no one else had such a unflagging devotion to the Inquisitor, Dorian bending over backwards to fulfill their requests while pretending not to care much. These idiots had _no idea_ what Dorian had been through, _no idea_ how hard Dorian worked to make sure that the Inquisition and Skyhold were safe. He was half-tempted to tell them, but he knew they were too small-minded to even begin to understand that concept.

  
“If he starts using blood magic, I’ll be the first in line to give him a piece of my mind, but I doubt that’s gonna happen. Let go of him.”

  
Everyone tensed for a long moment, waiting for something to happen. Dorian’s eyes were locked on Krem, unsure and still-surprised about his interference. The soldiers shared some unsure glances, glaring between Dorian and Krem.

  
“I _said_ , let him go,” Krem repeated, his fists clenching at his side.

  
“Fine,” the man holding tightly on Dorian’s collar hissed. He yanked suddenly, lurching Dorian forward off of the bench and into the mud at his feet. Dorian hadn’t been expecting it, but caught himself before landing face-first in the muck. Krem started forward, the anger flurrying hot in his stomach again, but Dorian held up a hand to still him. He braced for something, suspecting a sharp kick to the ribs were the next step.

  
“ _Go_ ,” Krem ordered in a low, threatening growl.

  
The group turned away from Dorian, heading back towards the castle, “Thought you were different, Aclassi.”

  
Krem glared after the men until they were out of sight, still wishing he could smash his fist into their teeth. Dorian was still tensed on the ground, shocked that his had gone over without getting a boot to the face. Krem mulled over possible scenarios where he got to train with the men again, maybe slipped up and smashed a practice sword into their face and called it an accident.

   
“Dorian, are you—” Krem took a step toward him.

  
“I’m fine,” Dorian answered quickly, fingers digging into the dirt. He fumbled across the ground for a moment, snatching up his book and looking down sadly at it in his hands, “This book, however, has seen better days. It was on loan from the Univeristy of Orlais. I hope we can convince them this was some horrible mistake and they don’t demand the return of the rest of their collection once they find out.”

  
Krem stared for a moment, wanting to tell Dorian he was more important than some _book_. He wasn’t sure if Dorian would believe it, and he wasn’t sure if he could say something so revealing about his growing affection for the man. Instead, he stepped closer, offering a hand to him. Looking at it skeptically for a moment, Dorian reached out and let Krem tug him up onto his feet. Then, he proceeded to fuss over the book again, wiping the cover clean with a patch of his robes. Krem frowned at the sight, mud splattered across his previously bright red robes and long fingers he suspected would feel soft against his skin.

  
“Is this something that happens often?” Krem questioned sternly, knowing the answer, but needing to know for sure.

  
“Well,” Dorian said thoughtfully, avoiding looking directly at Krem, “The mud is new.”

  
“You aren’t going to do anything?” Krem demanded, anger making his skin feel hot, the tense set of Dorian’s jaw making his chest tight.

  
“What do you propose I do?” Dorian asked testily, tapping a foot with impatience, “Any amount of retaliation just proves that I _am_ an evil Magister they should be afraid of. Tattling to the Inquisitor or Cullen only makes me look weak and pathetic and untrustworthy. It’s a lose-lose situation for me, no matter how you spin it.”

  
Krem’s face fell, anger mixing with sadness. He could see the hurt in Dorian’s eyes, despite the fact that Dorian was trying  to hide behind anger and bluster.

  
“You shouldn’t have to put up with that shit,” Krem said gently, shaking his head firmly.

  
Dorian shrugged slightly, “Nothing I’m not accustomed to.”

  
Krem’s eyes narrowed, thinking back to Tevinter. He’d done enough sneaking around and seeking out fleeting relationships to understand the kind of world Dorian had lived in. A slip-up or choosing a fling with the wrong person could mean all sorts of trouble and pain, and Krem wondered how many of those relationships Dorian had been in. There’d been a time Krem had seen a pair of men beaten to a pulp in the streets for holding hands, everyone turning their heads away and pretending nothing was happening. Krem had been guided away by his father before he could do something impulsive. Then, there was the added disapproval of Dorian’s family, which Krem only knew small pieces of from the Bull, but Krem could see how deep that hurt ran.

  
“Just because it’s what you’re used to doesn’t make it right, you idiot,” Krem said harshly, making Dorian blink at him. The surprised and somewhat pained expression made Krem’s chest ache again, and he quickly opened his mouth to explain, “I don’t mean —”

  
“No, no, you’re right,” Dorian shifted slightly, tucking the ruined book under his armpit and wiping his hand on his robes before extending it towards Krem, “I should thank you for your help. I do appreciate it, Krem. If you hadn’t come along… Well, we’ll just say things probably would have went a lot worse.”

  
Krem reached out and took Dorian’s forearm, the small contact creating a spark that tingled up the length of his arm.

  
“You aren’t so bad for a ‘Vint,” Krem smiled at him, squeezing slightly, hoping it would give Dorian some reassurance.

  
Dorian nodded, “I could say the same thing.” His expression looked soft and fond for a moment, before he quickly withdrew his hands, “I best go clean up and change. This is what I get for deciding to go outside in this wretched weather.”

  
He started to turn to leave, Krem staring after him for a minute, wishing he knew something more to say.

  
“Dorian?”

  
“Mm?”

  
“See you for drinks later?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I write the drinks later scene or skip ahead?


End file.
